


Omens

by Bibliotecaria_D



Series: Footnotes [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Transformers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-24
Updated: 2011-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:18:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliotecaria_D/pseuds/Bibliotecaria_D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a certain period of time (and in certain crossovers), some things are inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omens

_After a certain period of time (and in certain crossovers), some things are inevitable._

[* * * * *]

 **Title:** Omens  
 **Warning:** So stupid my brain hurts.  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Continuity:** G1/Good Omens  
 **Characters:** Blaster, Soundwave, Skyfire, Cassetticons  
 **Disclaimer:** The theatre doesn’t own the script or actors, nor does it make a profit from the play.  
 **Motivation (Prompt):** _Running out of time_

[* * * * *]

The entire Ark lost its collective jaw when Soundwave landed in front of the mountain, hands up even before Windcharger and Hound gathered their wits enough to heft a gun in his direction. “Assistance required,” he droned over their barked demands1 for surrender. “Rumble: in peril.”

Even through a monotone, his concern came through loud and clear. That brought Blaster running on the double. His counterpart in the Decepticons could fake a lot, but this was the kind of trick that would backfire only on the Decepticon himself. Blaster would never go to Soundwave for help because the Autobots would gladly help him; the same could not be said for the Decepticons. The network of bribes and favors-owed among the Decepticons shifted depended on the day, sometimes even the hour, and aid rendered with an optic for revenge or advantage wasn’t terribly helpful in a tight spot. If Soundwave knew, really knew, that his Cassetticons needed help, he truly only had Blaster as an option.

Soundwave, Blaster knew, was not stupid. Loyal to Megatron, yes, but not foolish. He wouldn’t cut that lifeline, even to trick the Autobots into a trap.

A quick data squeal of information cemented Blaster’s confidence. An electronic transmission done under the increasing hubbub around them, and Blaster knew the whole story. Knew it, didn’t like it, and wasn’t going to let any fragging red minibot with an attitude stand in the way of helping, either. “I’m telling you, Cliffjumper, you move it or I’m gonna **lose my cool** ,” Blaster gritted out. He’d placed himself between Red Alert and Soundwave without a thought, already pinging urgently over the internal Ark system for Skyfire. They did not have _time_ to arrest and interrogate Soundwave, no, sorry, maybe next time, Prowl. Oh, yeah, hi Optimus. No, you can’t arrest him either. Busy now; talk later.

Speaking aloud seemed like a waste of time at the moment, but he knew rationally that he needed to actually tell everyone what Soundwave had transmitted to him. But this was the kind of Earth information that the other Autobots scoffed at him for. Every Autobot except—

Soundwave went slightly less stiff at his back, the Decepticon equivalent of wilting with relief, and Blaster grinned up at Skyfire. It was like seeing hope dawn. “Skyfire, fire in my mountain, we need to fly the friendly skies like **now.** Give a ‘bot a hand?”

The issue at hand being that it _wasn’t_ an Autobot who needed a hand, but that concern seemed kind of petty in the face of Blaster’s urgency. Solemn blue optics slid between Soundwave and Blaster, seeming not to note the irritated and annoyed and downright insulted crowd of Autobots milling around them. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had a pair of statis cuffs and were engaged in a weird, shuffling dance as Blaster fluidly moved to counter them every time they tried to lunge for Soundwave. The Decepticon was being as blatant as possible with his lack of reaction to the attacks, staying painstakingly neutral. Prowl and Red Alert were the most alarmed, if not the loudest in the group 2. They alternated between threats and appeals for an explanation. Optimus Prime exchanged nods with the massive shuttle. The Autobot leader seemed more bemused than anything by his communication officer’s seemingly-traitorous brush-off.

“Where do you need to go?” Skyfire asked slowly, deciding to skip the whole treason issue and go for the facts alone3.

Blaster whirled and kicked the cuffs out of Sunstreaker’s hands. Jazz caught them on the rebound off Hound’s head and joined the shuffle-dance with a cheerful bounce to his step. Blaster nodded amiably to the saboteur while not giving an inch. “London, m’man. London. We can’t drive there in time, ya dig it?”

“…Ah.” Now, Skyfire was not like most of the Autobots. He knew how to follow leaps of intuition, and Blaster’s strange theories on London had found a receptive listener with Starscream’s ex-partner. Careful observation had backed up many of the more bizarre hypothesis proposed. Traffic in London was one of those bizarre, yet obvious things. No Autobot could make it through London traffic in time4. “Alright. May I ask what’s so urgent about this journey?”

Soundwave spoke up. “Rumble: in peril. Trapped in altmode. Location: London. Exact location unknown.” He looked up at the shuttle, and it could have been Skyfire’s imagination, but he thought he saw a hint of pleading in the blank visor. “Assistance required.”

Jazz grunted as Blaster got him under the fender, pushing him away temporarily. The two music mechs were half-sparring, half-serious, and Sideswipe tried to sneak around them. Soundwave edged in the opposite direction, hands still raised but quite clearly not wanting to be cuffed. Sideswipe yipped as Blaster leapt back from Jazz and snapped around, hooking his feet right out from under him and sending the red Autobot down in a crunching heap. A sympathetic hiss went through the crowd, along with a few fingers marking points on invisible scoreboards.

“Soundwave’s boys can’t do a car-to-car search without sending everything into hopeless chaos,” the Autobot tapedeck called, intakes pulling air hard as he whipped back to face Jazz and Sunstreaker. “We ain’t got **time** for this!”

Skyfire looked blank for only a moment, then sucked air in himself as that hit him. “How long has he been trapped?”

Decepticon and Autobot tapedecks traded despairing looks. “Two weeks today,” Blaster said even as he ducked a fist aimed at his head. “Hey, watch it!”

“Skyfire,” Prime put in, “might you explain why—“

“No time!” Blaster and Skyfire snapped as one. Hearing Skyfire raise his voice was enough to shut everyone up, but a high-pitched _beep beep beep_ made even Prime back off in a hurry.

“Whoooo-o-oa, look **out!** ” Jazz flipped back, dragging Sunstreaker by one headfin as Skyfire initiated his transformation sequence. Unlike many of the smaller Cybertronians, this was not an immediate process. After a few too many close calls on the part of unaware Autobots, Ratchet and Skyfire had managed to install a quick stall in his transformation, short enough to not hamper combat but long enough for a series of shrill beeps to warn off smaller ‘bots. Skyfire, like many of the Autobots with altmode-mass in subspace storage, actually got larger when he transformed. However, in terms of scale, he got _really_ large. Jazz propelled Sunstreaker out of the way just in time.

Bumblebee and Prowl dove apart to let them through, and all four smaller Autobots looked up in baffled irritation as the huge shuttle settled to the ground with a rock-pulverizing _whoomp_. “Get in. It won’t be comfortable for you, but I can get us there in four hours.”

Hound and Windcharger leveled their rifles as Soundwave suddenly moved, body folding up in transformation, but Blaster reached out a hand to grab the abruptly tiny Decepticon in midair. His free hand waved frantically. “Outta the way, guys! This is a matter of a fate worse than The Who!”

He pelted onboard, Soundwave in hand, and the hatch slammed shut. Hot air blasted the horde of mechs back, and when they could look up against without grit and burnt air being smashed into sensitive optics, Skyfire was only a dot on the horizon.

“What…just happened?” Prowl asked, slow and careful.

Red Alert answered, just as cautious and twice as hesitant, “Blaster defected?”

“Uh-hmm. Explain Skyfire.”

“…temporary insanity?”

“Mind control,” Sideswipe put in. Sunstreaker wiped angrily at his scraped finish and muttered something about _running away before I get them._ Ratchet was already on his way to the _Ark_ ’s bridge, presumably to use Teletraan-1 to transmit continued medical questions at the fleeing mechs. Hound and Windcharger lowered their guns again, glancing back at Optimus in embarrassment. He only shook his head dismissively. He didn’t exactly feel it a bad thing that the two had failed to shoot a defenseless tapedeck.

Jazz, seemingly comfortable remaining flat on his back, pointed a finger straight up at the sky as if in revelation. “I vote for an actual emergency. ‘Cause, yeah, I can’t really see those cats bein’ ‘Cons.” He waggled his visor at the mechs who turned to look down at him. “Bow before Skyfire’s pacifist regime, Autobots! Blaster will force us to listen to WFN 85.7 Rock every day, 9 to 5, and BEE 101.3 Lite for the noon retro rundown.” His lips quirked roguishly. “We cower in fear.”

 

 _[* * * * *]  
Elsewhere, elsewhen, in London  
[* * * * *]_

 

Ravage shifted around at Soundwave’s feet, hissing static worriedly. Blaster had forbidden him from braving the London traffic, as even the Autobot technimal tapes were enough to scare the London drivers. Rewind and Eject were manning separate checkpoints, politely fending off rude honking and pointed finger gestures as they went through every car’s supplies of cassette tapes for one particular signal. Rumble was camouflaged so well in his alternate form that not even Soundwave could locate him precisely. The blue tapedeck stood by another checkpoint, Decepticon insignia strategically covered to prevent panic, straining his sensors to the max at each car that passed. At the last of the four checkpoints, Frenzy fretted at Blaster’s side.

Time was running out.

Two weeks, now, and counting.

 _*“Homeruuuuuuun!”*_ crowed triumphantly over a shared channel, and Ravage perked up visibly. He transmitted a name up to Soundwave, and the Decepticon tapedeck listened attentively as Eject excitedly called for his Autobot counterpart. _*“Blaster, we got him!”*_

Only the spirit of cooperation kept Soundwave from launching right then and there, humans be fragged. _”*Rumble: status?*”_ he demanded as he stepped back from the checkpoint in order to ignite his thrusters. “Ravage: return.” The human car he’d been inspecting peeled out like he’d threatened to step on it. Humans weren’t completely stupid; large, multi-ton robots were best viewed from a distance.

 _”*Ah…hold on. You’d best see this for yourself.*”_

An ominous chill dribbled down Soundwave’s backstruts. That did not bode well. Although, perhaps the Autobot tape was simply saving his words? Rumble could be fine. Ravage whined inside him, tape crackling with stress. Frenzy cursed up a storm, but Soundwave dismissed his other tape’s anger since it appeared that Blaster was merely preventing the hot-tempered Cassetticon from tearing his way directly to Eject’s position. Knowing London traffic, the small Decepticon would likely end up a speedbump instead of a marauder.

It took a dreadful 5 minutes to reach Eject’s checkpoint and land. It would have been only 3 minutes, but Soundwave chose not to initiate a fight by landing _on_ the humans. “Rumble,” he said even before his thrusters cut. Frenzy was grudgingly flying Blaster, in his altmode of course, toward them, but he couldn’t wait for the Cassetticon or Autobot tapedeck.

Eject nervously looked up at him and offered a tiny cassette tape with a hand-lettered paper label, _Beethoven’s Fifth_ , plastered across it. It didn’t transform, but he’d already known that Rumble was trapped in his altmode. None of this would have been necessary if the mission hadn’t gone terribly wrong, after all. He took the proffered tape apprehensively, not liking the apologetic look on the Autobot’s face nor the faint trace of Rumble’s signature. He could sense nothing but a hint of his Cassetticon in the tape. Anxiety ramping up, he inserted the tape into his chest and pressed _Play_.

Freddie Mercury asked if he was going to take him home tonight.

Less than a minute later, Blaster was flung free to transform as Frenzy hit the ground running. Soundwave had collapsed in a bleating pile, curled up around his cassette deck in a forlorn hug. Blaster transformed and landed feet-first. He looked at the mourning Decepticon. He watched as Frenzy stopped in his tracks. A stifled sound, somewhere between a scream and sob, came from the tape. Frenzy stumbled forward to paw at Soundwave’s arm as if begging for reassurance. _Fat Bottomed Girls_ continued to provide an utterly absurd soundtrack for the moment.

He looked at his own tape, not amused.

Eject kicked the tarmac sheepishly and held up another tape, complete with classical music label _and_ Decepticon insignia. “Bad timing?”

 

 

 

[* * * * *]  
 **Footnotes**  
[* * * * *]

 

1Okay, to be honest it was more like polite requests. Windcharger didn’t really do demanding even on a bad day, and Hound — everyone knew, although no one dared say it aloud — would run someone over before _barking_.

2Usually, that dubious honor went to Cliffjumper’s robust and oft-exercised vocalizer. However, never underestimate the bellow of a CMO in full cry. Ratchet had come running — driving, actually, with lights, horn, and siren set on high — under the assumption of some sort of medical emergency because of the frequency of Blaster’s urgent pings. He was loudly demanding to know _”Where the **frag** is the patient?!”_ He didn’t care who, what faction, or the delicacy of the situation. He just needed _access_ , Primus rust the lot of them, and if he had to bull through two superior officers and a frontliner to get it--!

3It was a good habit for a scientist. It drove Red Alert and Cliffjumper up the fragging wall. Skyfirian logic had disproven their favorite pet traitor theories one by one. It’s hard to be taken seriously when the resident levelheaded scientist reveals you as a raving crazy time and time again. The worst part was that he seemed to thrive on their bile by simply not acknowledging it. His pacifist nature swam through their loathing like a fat, happy fish in a tank. It was so hard to stay _angry_ at a mech like that!

4In time for what? It didn’t matter. For _anything_. Skyfire privately held his own theory on the phenomenon, as aerial observation had left him with the vague impression of Catholic symbolism in the twisted motorways. He didn’t personally believe in the Christian Hell, but the roads _were_ a human construction, and humans were easily influenced by unconscious belief…


End file.
